


Thief

by Lady_Poison_Heart (orphan_account)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: ??? - Freeform, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Domestic Avengers, Homeless Stiles, M/M, Pickpockets, Runaway Stiles, Sad Stiles Stilinski, Stealing, Stiles Stilinski Leaves Beacon Hills, Stiles Stilinski Leaves the Pack, Stiles Stilinski Needs a Hug, Stiles Stilinski is Pushed Out of the Pack, Stiles is a shifter, Swearing, The star spangled man, Thief Stiles Stilinski, Were-Creatures, Werecats, Werewolves, also, heros, pickpocket stiles, ships within the avengers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2019-09-15 11:48:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16932732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Lady_Poison_Heart
Summary: After months of neglect stiles knew his pack bonds were going to break soon, and his father wouldnt miss him. So he runs away and finds himself in New York and turns to pick pocketing as a way to feed himself. One run in with a pair of avengers later he finds himself being stalked, and with tension brewing between stiles and the local wolf pack, things arn't going to end well for stiles.





	1. It begins

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for all the jump cuts, I never edit anything so.... don't expect this to be updated regularly. It's from the 3rd of August, so.... also watch out for the swearing.
> 
>  
> 
> I have actully re-written the first chapter, and intend to try and update soon, although im notorious for my "ill write this now" notes even though i know im not going to write any more for several months.

Stiles had never really fit into the pack, in fact he'd never really fit in anywhere. He was always too loud, to energetic, too much. So he was honestly unsurprised when the pack started drifting away from him. He wasn't going to kid himself, they thought he was weak. So in preparation for the mess that would surely follow his pack bonds breaking, he packed his bags and brought a plane ticket with the last of his money. Less than a week later he was landing in Chicago and almost a month later he walked into new York. To be honest, he loved it. Minus the stomach cramping hunger and the crushing loneliness it was amazing. He was no one, to Stiles that meant he could be anyone. He could walk down any road or alleyway and not instantly think of that fae who ate half a person or that rogue werewolf they killed behind his favorite cafe. But it was also hell, Stiles hadn't been able to get a job stable enough job before his supplies ran out. So Stiles had turned to stealing, his, quick hands and soft steps made him near invisible to most people. At first it had just been food and water, but then he had started needing money. But he only took enough to survive, and only from those who looked like they could do without a few extra dollars.

 

\---

 

Stiles was hungry, his stomach bubbled and clenched painfully as he lent against the wall. It had been days since his last meal and his patience was beginning to wear thin as his body ate itself from the inside and his brain melted to putty. Said brain melting was probably the reason he was considering his chance of getting Black Widow and the Hawkeye wallets without losing any of his appendages. The pair worked with, and we're likely friends with Tony Stark, who was undoubtedly the richest man in New York. They fit his usual victim, aside from the fact there was two of them and they were freaking avengers. The choice was snatched from him as his stomach growled and rippled again, and a few moments later his hands were sliding out of a familiar red hoodie. Stiles flicked the hood over his head, squared his shoulders and flicked his wrists to loosen the joints. Less than 10 seconds later his shoulder slammed into the red haired assassin, his hand sliding in and out of her pocket in a single fluid motion. Stiles had angled himself in a way so that when he rebounded off the woman had be thrown into the hawk. Another wallet slid into the sleeve of his hoodie. 

 

Brushing past the jolt of satisfactions he got at the thickness of each wallet, Stiles squeaked an apology, flashed his big doe eyes and speed walked away from the pair. He remained painfully aware of the pairs eyes on his back, Stiles was painfully aware of their gaze burning into his skin, even with the hoodie blocking his view of them. Stiles knew the instant they began chasing him, the predator in him wanted him to turn, to fight. But the human side of his brain knew he wouldn't have been a mach for the pair even at his best. Not that he could be described as at his “best“ since Scott was bitten. With a knowing sigh Stiles sprinted down the street, dodging people and other obstacles. Perhaps Stiles had been alone for too long, either his sense of self-preservation was dropping or he was much more desperate that he thought he was. Stiles vaguely noted that playing tag with two avenger was probably a bad idea as his vision blurred and spots danced in front of his eyes. 

 

The steady rhythm of Stiles feet did not echo with his heart, instead, his heart seemed to jump and pause spastically as he ran. Stiles felt a flash of concern before it was washed away in a new wave of adrenaline that sent his feet speeding up and his heart jumping even more dramatically. Even as half-conscious as he felt Stiles still managed to suppress his supernatural enhancements. Even so, the moment he found himself alone in some back alley he scrambled up a pipe that was loosely attached to the building to his left. After scaling the building (bairly) he glanced back down at the pair watching him in surprise from the mouth of the alley. Stiles couldn't resist the urge to wink down at them as he pilfered their money, tossing the now significantly slimmer wallets down to the pair several stories below him. Stiles left several hundred dollars richer where as Natasha Ramanova and Clint Barton left with an interesting story to tell and the desire to know who the little pick pocket was. After all, if he could escape them so easily either he was special or their training was slipping.

 

Steve and Bucky knew instantly something was off when the widow and the hawk entered the living room. The pair were clearly having a disagreement over something, their faces contorted with emotion.

“-angry he got away” Clint 

“How are you so calm about this?!. He stole from us!” natasha replied, her eyes narrowing.  
“Come on nat, the kid looked like he hasn't eaten in weeks, and it's not like we need the money anyway. If you want something just ask Tony, he might complain a little but he'll get over it”.  
“Can I ask what happened?”. The star spangled man enquired, his voice tinged with curiosity.  
“Some brat pickpocketed us, and then climbed up a fucking drain pipe in an alleyway and ditched. With several hundred dollars. He even winked at us!”.

“We were walking down main and some kid bumped into us, probably didn't weigh anymore than 130 pounds soaking wet. He took our wallets and was almost around the corner when we realised and chase him. Then the kid dodged into an ally and by the time we got there he was already three stories up. He climbed a plastic fucking pipe up a vertical brick wall”. Clint elaborated  
“You guys got beaten by a homeless street kid”. Starks voice broke in as he rounded a corner and joined the gathering team. “I want to know who he is”. He spoke, grabbing a sandwich off Steves plate as he exited the room.  
“Come on Nat, lets go burn some of that anger”. Barnes spoke, gearing up for a sparring session as he disappeared into the elevator, the Widow following him.

\----

Stiles smiled as he counted the money, $312, more than he had had in a while. He could live on the money for weeks, maybe months, but the chances of it being taken from him was to large for him to attempt staying in some park, or behind some building. After a while of searching, stiles settled for some abandoned looking warehouse and set up his camp in a small office like room  on the top floor. Laying down, a sigh escaped stiles. Who new concrete would be a bitch to sleep on.

\----

Tony yawned as he looked down at the creation in his hands. The tiny device about the size of a his pinky and was designed to take down any communication systems within a half a mile, although the com's they used for missions would still work. He was still working out some faults for instance, when--. “Boss, the facial recognition scan on the male who stole from Mrs romanoff and Mr barton is complete. Would you like the results?”. A voice called, seemingly from nowhere. “Yeh. Thanks Friday”. A series of images and text flicked up in front of the billionaire. The face of a smiling teenager was the largest, Starks eyes scanned over the seemingly random letters that made up the boy's first name. He apparently preferred Stiles and Tony wasn't going to complain. Stiles was easier than whatever his disaster of a first name was. He paused once again, the kid had turned 18 just a few weeks ago. All this was interesting, but what really caught his interest was amount of crimes he was linked too. The name beacon hills came up repeatedly, and why none of the incidents in the town had made it onto the news was shocking. What sort of media outlet ignored ritualistic sacrifices?. Everything seemed to stem from the death of Laura Hale and the disappearance of Peter Hale, who was in a seemingly vegetable like state after being in a coma for six years. Stiles would have been barely 16, barely into his sophomore years when everything started going down in beacon hills. Tony sat there for hours, reading over files and files of information until he his vision was so blurred he couldn't read the words in front of him. A sigh escaped his lips as he dragged himself up the stairs and out of the lab. Searching for something comfortable to collapse onto. 

\----

“So, I know who our little pickpocket is. And I'm both amused and impressed that you two were beaten by a 18 year old runaway from some train wreck of a town in California. I mean, this place has it all. From serial killers to ritualistic sacrifices. And our little pickpocket and his ragtag group of friends seem to always be at the center of it. It's weird though because-”. “-Stark, let's start with the basics. Like what his name is.’ Nat replied, much calmer than the day before. She would be lying if she said she hadn't done the exact same thing many times before, accept they were usually for the benefit of others. Not because she lacked the luxury of food. “That's the thing, I'm not even going to try and pronounce it. It looks like his parents just keyboard smashed and decided that that was their kids name. Here, look-”. Pietro, who had been standing silently against the wall, rushed forward in his usual fashion. Scooping the paper tony had been waving around out of the air. “- It is pronounced Mi- I don't actually know”. “Wow, that was so helpful speedy, thank you for the contribution”. The billionaire replied, rolling his eyes. Sensing a squabble brewing, Natasha whipped her head around to glare at the pair. “Give me that file or i will castrate you both with a fork”. Suddenly, the file landed in her lap. “Huh, you weren't joking when you called that place a disaster”. The resident archer replied, reading over his partners shoulder. “It gets weirder, Jarvis, the video please buddy”. The tv screen flickered before a video was played, the footage grainy. “The fu- ok before we start guessing, can we confirm that's not just some really buff hairy guy”. 

\----

Stiles stayed in the warehouse for the next two days until he dare venture out in search of food. He also changed his clothes and vowed to remain on the other side of the city. If he bumped into the pair again he didn't think had get out of it as easily, if at all. Stiles brought some new clothes from a thrift shop and trashed his old ones, and even splashed out on a cheap hotel room in a more dodgy part of the city. The room was dirty and he didn't want to think about what the stains on the bed could be, but it had a shower, and the water was warm. Something stiles had not had since the day he left beacon hills. He sighed dully as he settled into the itchy sheets. 

\----

After two days of searching and numerous arguments the avengers were split, on one side was those who believed they should leave the kid. On the other were those who believed they should at least try and talk to him. However, a visit to the alley he had disappeared from revealed that none of the avengers could scale the pipe without more equipment. This mixed with the video of an actual werewolf and the incidents in beacon hills sent warning bells ringing. Eventually a decision was made, they would find the kid, but if he refused to speak they would not bring him into their custody


	2. Cats and Dogs

The money Stiles had stolen failed to lasted him two weeks, so he once again set out in search of a victim. Several hours later Stiles had settled against a wall on the opposite side of the city from where he'd had his run in with the avengers. Anxiety burned in his belly as he watched the crown, his eyes pausing on a mop of curly brown hair. The male was walking towards him, head held high and eyes narrowed threateningly. Everything in Stiles screamed at him to run, but doing so was a clear sign of fear and of weakness. Stiles knew this man all too well, his name was Damien Kovitz and he was the first beta of the Zorian pack. Said pack had a huge issue with him for some reason.

 

Stiles noted the other wolves as they emerged from the steady flow of people surrounding him. The wolves descended on him like they would a wounded animal and for a few brief moments he felt like a rabbit staring into the jaws of a wolf. But the feeling dispersed into a low hum of unease almost as soon as it appeared. Stiles pupils slitted as he stared into Kovitz own supernatural gold ones. The hair on the back of his neck prickled and he was sure that if it was possible he would have puffed up like a scared kitten. Kovitz seemed to think so to.

 

“What's gotten you all puffed up kitten?. Scared of the big bad wolves?”. His voice scratchy, rough and obnoxious as ever.

 

Stiles barely suppressed the petty desire to hiss or lash out. But wisely decided to remain silent, the fresh scar on the fleshly section of his shoulder ached. Reminding him of the last time he refused to submit and his weakness in comparison to one of the strongest packs in America.

 

“Naw, don't be like that kitty-cat”.

 

Stiles suppressed the rising urge to claw off his stupid per(r)fect face.

 

“Regardless, Alpha Zorian wants to speak to you about your position in our territory and since you keep “forgetting” to turn up and speak with him, he sent me to take you back to the meeting place”. 

 

At this point Stiles sense of self preservation and brain to mouth filter both decided to quit on him and in a Stiles-like fashion he word vomited.

 

“As great as that sounds, one of the first things i learned at school was never to go to a second location with a strangers. You know the chance of being killed increa-”. 

 

Stiles cuts himself off as an arm linked with his and sharpened claws dug into his flesh. Kovitz dragged Stiles along with him as the other wolves formed a circle around them, whether it be to keep him in or others out he couldn't tell. As Stiles discomfort grew his own claws sharpened, digging into the flesh of his palm. The wolves around him seemed to grow exited at the smell of his blood and his fear, speeding up and jostling each other. Stiles wasn't ignorant enough to think he could escape them, at least not this time. Stiles was forced into the back seat of a shiny black bmw that looked totally inconspicuous (not). 

 

\----

 

20 minutes later Stiles was pretty sure he was about to be murdered, beaten or thrown out of the pack's territory. Not that they could legally prevent any other supernatural species from living in the area at least regarding interspecies relations. But the pack was large enough to threaten anyone out of the area. Said territory took up a all of Manhattan and Brooklyn as well as a large portion of queens. If Stiles had not already settled here, than he would have moved out. 

 

Stiles was ripped from his thoughts and the car by the collar of his shirt. An angry warning sound building in his throat as he was pushed through a door series of doors, before he ended up in a room with the the alpha of the Zorian pack. The alpha is tall, even when seated he seemed to tower over Stiles who was promptly shoved into a leather seat across from the male. He seemed to stare into Stiles soul for a long moment before he spoke.

 

“So your the cat than ran with wolves. I must say I'm surprised, when i heard you were a wild-cat shifter i assumed you would be… larger”.

 

Stiles couldn't fault him, he was technically a wildcat shifter, but rather than turning into a tiger or a lion he could turn into a Serval, fully shifted he was about 60 cm at the shoulder and about 82 cm in length. He was pretty small and useless and even he could admit it. Stiles elected to stay silent.

 

“I'm also curious as to why a true alphas pet turned up in my territory and what repercussions could occur for my allowing you to live here”. 

 

Stiles was so tense he was surely about to snap in half, he fought the urge to curl up and for probably the millionth time he wished Peter had torn him to bits that night in the preserve, or taken stiles with him when he went underground earky the previous year.

 

“I assure you that my previous pack do not want me back and will not come looking for me. My loyalties to alpha McCall and his pack dissolved long ago and they cared very little about me even when i was a member of their pack, that is if you can say i was ever a member of the McCall pack. I am afterall a cat shifter and felines and canines are notorious for their inability to get along”. 

 

Stiles supposed that sounded ok, although he had to consciously not use the word dog in his response. The alpha regarded him for a moment.

 

“I will contact you, previous alpha and confirm what you have said. If what you say is true I grant you permission to live inside the Zorians pack territory. On the condition that you either join my pack within the next half decade or submit to me. If alpha McCall tells me you are lying you will be sent back to alpha McCall. If you attempt to leave the pack boundaries before I speak with alpha McCall you will be restrained as necessary. If you harm any member of my pack I will be forced to retaliate”.

 

He took that as a dismissal and fled the room with the little dignity he had left.

 

\----

 

Stiles was far too tired to pickpocket anyone that day, but his hunger overruled the bone deep exhaustion he felt. He figured it was safest to stay towards the middle of the Zorian territory, he knew he was being followed. The pair of wolves, both male, weren't even trying to be subtle. Their scent and the sensation of their eyes put him on edge. Regardless, he pushed the feeling to the back of his mind as he searched the crowd. Eventually he moved into a cute little cafe, his eyes narrowing in on a trio of men. One blond was bent over sketching, an expensive looking bag resting beside him. He was clearly distracted even though Stiles was unable to see his facial expression. His two companions, one burnett the other dark skinned, were having a argument. It took Stiles a total of two seconds to deliberate. Although he decided to keep watching the men.

 

The blond glanced up and around once before Stiles finished his observation and the action was so fast that Stiles barely noticed the shift in the blonds position. The other two men were significantly more aware of their surroundings. If the bag didn't look so expensive he would have selected another target. But he was tired and the other people in the space weren't suitable targets. To his left was a woman with a baby, no wedding ring and no partner in sight. Across the room was a large group of 16 year old girls and an old couple was seated behind him. 

 

Stiles stood carefully, pushing the chair back under the table before he moved through the maze of tables. His fingers wrapped delicately around the leather strap of the bag and he began to swiftly but subtly move away from the table. But Stiles wasn't having a good day. A hand wrapped tightly around his wrist at the same times as one of the men spoke. Stiles tilting his head so he could see the men out of the corner of his eye, the long haired brunette with the single glove was the one death gripping his wrist and the dark skinned one was the person speaking.

 

“I don't believe that belongs to you”. The words were laced with poison and the tone made something inside Stiles ache. 

 

The blond turned to look at him and Stiles decided to take a moment to try and mentally set himself on fire. He had just tried to steal Captain America’s book bag. said captain was now looking at him like a wounded puppy, The Winter Soldier was gripping his arm so hard he swore his bones were grinding together and Falcon was trying to tear apart all the mental walls Stiles had ever built with his eyes.

 

“Why don't you sit down and we have a little chat”. The winter soldier spoke, although it sounded like a question stiles was given no choice as he was tugged into the chair between Mr American puppy and a literal assassin. Stiles was incredibly grateful for his hoodie as he tilted his head downwards. They would only be able to see his mouth and for tha-.

 

“Why don't you pull off the hoodie kid?”. The request actually managed sounded like a question this time, although it still contained undertones that made stiles want, need to comply. It took him a few moments to rack up the courage but eventually he pulled the hoodie back over his own scruffy unkempt hair. The trio simultaneously paused as they took him in. He knew he looked like shit, gaunt and pale and sickly looking. Hell, he could even say that he looked worse now than he did when he was literally possessed by an evil spirit. 

 

“Would you like to tell me why you tried to take my friends bag?”. 

 

Stiles thought it was pretty obvious why. With a stuttered breath blabbed out something although the only word he recognised coming out of his own mouth was the word hungry. The words seemed to wake up Stiles stomach, which ached and groaned loud enough for the trio to hear. Stiles eyes dropped to his own lap where he wrung his hands. After a few moments of silence a plate was pushed over to the space on the table in front of him. Said plate was empty aside from a serving of heavenly looking curly fries. Stiles looked up hesitantly.

 

“ Thank you.” his voice was soft and Stiles pointedly avoids making eye contact as he picked at the offering. 

 

As much as he wanted to shove them all down his throat, he would probably throw up if he did. Eventually they parted ways, although not before they weaseled out some information about him and each gave him their phone numbers. Stiles ended up in a public bathroom throwing up a few minutes after they seperated. It had been a long time since anyone had showed him any kindness and it was shocking enough to his body that he almost crashed on his way to his abandoned apartment building. Stiles looked down at the money that had been pressed into his hands. Not much, maybe enough for a day or two, but enough to make him want cry every time he tried to spend the money over the next few days.


	3. Tears and Rain

Stiles was tired and lonely. After his possession he had been left with scraps of memories from voids life, he could remember starting wars and plagues, spilling the lifeblood of hundreds upon hundreds of people. But these memories only came in scraps, a few seconds triggered by things as simple as the smell of smoke or someone coughing. Luckily these flashes were much less common now, months after he was freed from his own brain. Although these flashes of memory swirled around his brain in a seemingly endless loop and he always woke to the sound of his own screaming. That combined with the absence of his admittedly weak pack bonds and barely there relationship with his father weighed heavily on his shoulders. So here he sat, alone on a park bench in the pouring rain.

 

His stomach was full, but rather than being a comforting feeling it just made him feel like he was filled with rocks. He supposed he should be thankful, the single cheap sandwich would have hardly made a dent in his teenage appetite a few months ago. Yet now his stomach felt uncomfortably full, nausea washing over him in waves. He supposed his combined mental and physical state could be blamed for his unawareness. A man settled onto the bench, almost near enough to touch. Said person's appearance startling him enough he nearly fell off the bench. Stiles head snapped around in surprise as a farmilure, somewhat calming smell washed over him. 

 

\---- Peters POV ----

 

Peter would recognise that scent anywhere, even apparently on a busy New York street in the pouring rain. It wasn't a conscious decision to follow the scent and it took him a few moments to find the smell of mint, grass and coffee under the scents of hundreds of people. Although the scent was intertwined with the overwhelming smell of decay.

 

“Hello, Stiles.” Peter regarded, watching what was left of the teen out of the former of his eye.

 

He was skinny and pale even more so than the boy he remembered. Hunched into himself like he was trying to disappear. His face gaunt and his hands shakily clasped together in front of him.

 

“What are you doing here Peter?”. 

 

Stiles voice wasn't angry, or happy or sad. He just sounded resigned, as if he had accepted this life. This life that was so clearly killing him. Underneath the scent of rain, strangers and Stiles dirt and stale sweat, he smelled like every emotion all at once. although some were clearly hours, maybe days old. For a moment bitterness swelled in peters chest, the emotion surprising him. The pair sat together for a moment, neither willing to break the silence. Peter shifted back onto his feet.

 

"Come on then, you haven't had a shower in days and your looking impossibly thinner than you did in that godforsaken town".

 

Stiles remained silent for a moment before giving in, if he was lucky peter would leave him alone when he got what he wanted. 

 

Peter was startled, the boys usually expressive hands hung limply by his sides and he bent so easily to peters will. This couldn't be stiles, could not be the teenager who hurled a molotov cocktail at him, the boy who spoke as much with his hands as with his mouth. Peter would not accept this new stiles, would not sit by and watch the most brilliant person he'd met since his awakening fade into nothingness.

 

\---- Avengers POV ----

 

The team sat silently as they listened to Barnes, Wilson and Rogers speak. It was stiles again, come out of hiding in search of food. In the last two weeks, there had been no sightings of him, no grainy camera footage, nothing. In fact, the team had thought he may have moved on, taken his money and made a run for the hills. Regardless, that didn't shake up the unease they felt, this was the first sighting of him in weeks and he just so happened to stumble upon and try and steal from three more Avengers. The circumstances were a bit iffy, and the team vowed to be more cautious around him. They had seen the footage of him being dragged into some BMW by a group of men, all so much larger than him. Only for him to return an hour later, practically thrown from the vehicle. Overall, Stiles was quite the suspicious character, but that just made him more interesting, at least to the Avengers.

 

\-----Stiles POV----

 

Stiles was lead gently through the rain by Peter, one hand pressed into the arch of his spine. He pointedly ignored the way Peter tensed as his palm pressed down on the sharp ridge of stiles spine and the way he not so subtly tried to hold him up. Stiles collapsed eventually, allowing himself to be swept up into Peter's arm like the damsel in distress he swore he would never be. The next thing he felt was a blanketing warmth, a sharp, shocking contrast to the coldness he'd felt over the last few months of winter. This shocked him back into consciousness, although his eyes rolled around in his head the moment he sat up.

 

"Your lucky I could you when I did. Your body's beginning to fail, the effects of long term neglect. You smell like decay, like death."

 

The voice was so simultaneously foreign and familiar it sent his head spinning again and nausea swirling in his stomach. Tears built in his eyes as he settled back down, basking in the sensation of arms around his body and a chin rested lightly on his head. His body jerked as a sob broke from his lips, smothering the sound into Peters chest.

 

"Why did you leave me?." Stiles moaned, self-hatred bursting in his belly and quickly overwhelmed him as something inside him broke. "Why?."


End file.
